My Friend, Cas
by evilbunnies101
Summary: Dean's only friend was Sam, and he loved his baby brother, but he also wanted to play with someone who didn't need diaper changes and also wouldn't steal his toys. Cas is kind of weird and wears a coat far too big for a six year old, but that's okay. Perfect, actually. AU. Oneshot (?)


As a little boy, Dean Winchester didn't have many friends. Actually, zero friends would be a more realistic estimate. He just wasn't very sociable with other children, and when he did have the courage to open up, his favorite topic of discussion was his baby brother Sammy, who was two years old. Nobody besides the teachers wanted to hear about a _baby_, no matter how awesome and cool he was. And even then, the teachers only listened so much before their replies became increasingly monosyllabic, and their eyes more distant.

His parents found this a little concerning, but they comforted themselves in the hopes that he would blossom as he grew older. First graders didn't always have an easy time of it, and that was to be expected. Dean seemed content enough when he got home from school and played with his brother as Sammy waddled around, gurgling. Still, John arranged ill-fated playdates with the other kids on the street and Mary devoured parenting books.

Dean didn't really care too much, but sometimes he wished he had someone to play soccer with, or someone to whisper to in class when it got boring. Everyone else did. He really loved his little brother, thought he was adorable, but Sammy couldn't talk much yet and he was prone to snatching toys out of Dean's hands when they played.

The time came when Dean began to think he was weird, or stupid. When he tried to tell Cassie Robinson that he liked her hair on the playground, she'd pushed him down and he had to gingerly remove wood chips from where they'd ground into his skin. He bit his lip and rubbed his eyes so the other kids wouldn't make fun of him crying, and sat against a tree, quietly whimpering.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't recognize that voice. It was soft but kind of raspy and weird; not like any of the others from his grade. He looked up to see a boy looking down at him, head tilted. Dean blushed a little, ashamed that someone had discovered him. But the boy had on a coat that was wayyyy too big for him, so somehow he knew that maybe he had trouble fitting in, too. He couldn't even see his hands, the sleeves were so long.

"Um," Dean began, clearing the warble from his throat, "Someone pushed me."

The other boy's mouth opened in surprise as he blinked, like he couldn't possibly fathom how kids could be mean to each other. Well, they were. All the time, Dean thought bitterly. And for no reason!

"Sorry," the boy whispered, "That's bad. Let's go tell the teacher."

Before Dean had a chance to respond, or ask him who he was and where he came from, the boy rolled back his sleeve and grabbed Dean's shoulder, tugging him to his feet. The boy was stronger than he looked, and it hurt a little, but Dean didn't say anything about it because _finally _someone was talking to him. And felt bad for him!

"We can't be tattletales," he protested as he was half-dragged across the playground, "Nobody likes tattletales. They'll hate me even more! Please don't tell!"

The boy looked back at him, stopping. His eyebrows knit together, clearly taking into account what Dean said. "Okay," he said, finally.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, suddenly remembering that he didn't even know his name yet, "Are you new?"

"My name's Castiel," the boy answered, looking at the ground, "Y-Yeah, I'm new."

/

When the teacher introduced Castiel to the rest of the class and asked him to say something about himself, he froze up, stammering as he brought the neck of his giant coat over his face. There were a few, loud whispers from kids who thought that his name was weird.

The teacher, noticing this, tutted sympathetically and asked him what table he wanted to sit at. Again, he paused, eyes wide as he scanned the room. None of them were smiling. None of them wanted him sitting with them.

"Sit here!" Dean called from the back of the room, waving his arm in the air, "Sit here!"

Dean reddened at the looks that his classmates sent him, shrinking back in his chair. Every time he ever said something, he got weird looks. Why?

When he saw the big smile cross his new friend's face, Dean's embarrassment disappeared, replaced with happiness and a warm tingly feeling in his chest. Cas (he called him Cas because he had difficulty saying his full name) was really cute. How come he didn't notice how cute he was before?

When Cas slid quietly into the chair next to him, Dean gave him a wide grin, resisting the urge to just hug him in welcome. He might not like that.

Dean discovered later that day that Cas liked babies. He listened with a tiny smile on his face as he regaled him with tales of his little brother, and even asked a few questions at some points.

/

Dean practically skipped through the door that day after school, scooping his brother up when the baby ran in to greet him.

"Dee!" Sammy shrieked, resting his fluffy head against his brother's chest in his approximation of a hug. Dean kissed his head, ignoring that Sam was kind of heavy because he was just so excited and happy.

"I made a friend, Sam," he whispered, giddy, "I have a friend now!"

John followed his son, grinning when he heard the reason why Dean was bouncing excitedly the entire car ride home. He told Mary, who took it upon herself to ask Dean a ridiculous amount of questions about Cas. She was so eager and enthusiastic that Dean actually felt the need to cover her mouth at one point. He didn't know _everything_ about his friend yet.

Cas came over for their first playdate a week later, and that was also, incidentally, the first time they had a fight. It was quick, a heated exchange over who got to play with the Batman action figure. They resolved it and forgave each other soon after, bonding over cartoons and favorite foods.

When Sam randomly ran into Cas for a hug, Dean's heart stopped for a second. Sam always did that to people who came in the house, and the last time he had a playdate, the boy hated it and told Dean that his brother was annoying.

Cas blinked in momentary confusion, before giggling shyly and returning Sam's affection. "I wish I had a little brother," he replied wistfully, ruffling Sam's hair, "My brothers and sister are older than me."

Dean was smiling so much he thought his cheeks were gonna fall off.

/

When Valentine's Day came a few months later, Dean was disappointed to see that he only got two cards from his classmates, and he felt guilty to see that Cas hadn't received any.

"It's because you're friends with me," Dean said sadly, "I'm sorry you didn't get any cards."

Cas gave him a baffled look, shaking his head. "I don't care," he replied, "Why would I want cards from people I don't even like?"

Dean's heart thumped at that. Shyly, he handed Cas the card that he'd spent two hours working on, the one that his mom tried to help him with a bunch of times, only to be refused firmly. He wanted it to be done all by himself, so he could be 100% proud of it. He loved his mom, but she helped him with everything. Even when he got frustrated with the coloring or from making mistakes with the scissors, he just plowed ahead. He was really hoping Cas loved it.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas smiled gratefully, "This is amazing!"

It was made of one big piece of red cardboard paper, folded in half, with a group of haphazard, differently sized hearts on the inside. The hearts were numerous colors, all painstakingly cut out of other pieces of cardboard paper. In the middle, Dean had drawn a small picture of him and Cas playing together. "Hapy Valtine's Dey Cas!" it read.

Cas was so pretty, Dean noticed. Why didn't he know how pretty he was before? His hair was so dark and soft, even though it was always a mess, and his eyes were so big and blue. They both looked so nice with his pale skin, and when Cas looked down, Dean could see how long his eyelashes were. He was almost as cute as Sam.

"I think you're pretty!" Dean blurted, before slapping his hand over his mouth. He shouldn't have said that! What if Cas didn't like him anymore, now?

"Pretty?" Cas repeated, confused. He scrunched his eyebrows together, "I'm not a girl."

He didn't seem mad, which relieved Dean. He was just making that confused face that he always made. Dean didn't know what he would do if he lost his only friend besides Sammy. He hadn't cried since Cas came, and he didn't want to do that again. Maybe he could tell him what he wanted to tell him now?

"Uh, Cas?" he began, shuffling his feet and glancing at him, "Do you have a crush on anyone?"

"What's a crush?" Cas replied, by way of answer, "Like stepping on someone?"

"No," Dean giggled nervously, "It's like…if you really like someone. And you want to kiss them. And stuff. And you think they're—"

He cut himself off before he said 'pretty', because he'd just called Cas pretty, and Cas wasn't dumb.

"Like parents," Cas mused, waiting for Dean's confirmation, "Like how parents kiss?"

"Y-Y-Yeah."

"I don't think so," Cas deadpanned, shaking his head, "I don't want to kiss anyone."

Dean felt his heart sink. If Cas didn't want to kiss anybody, that meant he didn't want to kiss him. But Dean wanted to so badly! He wanted to kiss Cas's smooth cheek and hug him and maybe pet his messy-but-soft hair a little. He didn't actually do it, of course, since his friend would probably hate it.

"Ok," Dean murmured sadly, "Neither do I."

/

Twelve years later, nothing had really changed all that much. Once he'd reached the onslaught of puberty, people realized that Dean Winchester must have hit the genetic lottery or something, because _damn_. So yeah, he supposed he was popular, and he slept with the girls who wanted to sleep with him, and he went to parties, but he couldn't call any of them friends. That wasn't necessarily their fault; Dean would always be slightly socially stunted, he was just hot now.

Sam and Cas were still his best friends, but Sam, now a freshman, was a social butterfly who wasn't always available when his brother wished he was. And Cas…hanging out with him as much as he did was steadily becoming more and more painful, a far cry from the easy friendship and silent communication they'd shared for years. That was still there and probably always would be, but on Dean's part, it was laced with an undercurrent of longing and, more and more frequently, lust.

Cas was just as beautiful as the first day he'd met him, with full lips balanced by exotic, enviable bone structure and eyes so blue they hurt to look at. He still couldn't fix his hair quite right, and he still had that surprising gravel to his voice that offset his pretty face. But he was too odd for the student body to take a shallow liking to, way too formal and confusing, and sometimes blunt enough that he had to avoid a punch in the face.

Dean thought he was perfect. He often referred to Cas as an angel in his head.

It was Valentine's Day, and every year he thought about when he almost told Cas about the first-grade crush he had on him. Dean always got retroactive embarrassment at this, knowing at this point in his life that Cas was probably aware that Dean's strange line of questioning had everything to do with that. He never asked him to confirm it, because now it would be too weird and intimate to bring up what used to be a silly crush.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean almost jumped out of his skin, finding his friend staring up at him in bafflement. Of course, he'd just spent the last few minutes zoning out like a weirdo. He deserved a weird look. Totally.

"Hey, Cas," he replied casually, inching away from his tantalizing proximity, "Let's go."

/

Cas sprawled across Dean's couch on his stomach, his face turned to the side as he told Dean about his brother Gabriel's most recent shenanigans. Dean was sitting upright, and Cas's gorgeous head was so close to his hand that it wouldn't be at all inconvenient for him to stroke it through that insane hair. What would be his reaction if he did that? Would he read too much into it? Would it just seem like a playful gesture from a friend? Would it feel nice?

He was almost shaking with the urge to touch him in some way, however chastely. Cas was just so close and he smelled so good and Dean loved him so, so much and—

"Are you sure you're alright?" Cas muttered, an edge of concern in his voice, "You've been zoning out all day. This is usually the part of the story when you call my brother an idiot."

"What?" Dean said stupidly, earning a snort from Sam's end of the couch, "Sorry, I'm just tired."

Cas flipped onto his back, tilting his head up to get an upside-down view. "Would you like me to leave, then?"

Dean looked down at him, gulping. He could just lean over right now and press his lips to his angel's, softly, gently. And maybe he could run his palms down his slight torso. It would make Dean feel so good and so complete, and for a moment he seriously contemplated it, not even thinking about the repercussions. His chest tightened.

But then he realized that he was staring creepily and probably seconds away from licking his lips and blinked quickly, looking away. He couldn't do that, couldn't stand the idea of being rejected. Maybe he should ask Cas to go. He had an excuse, anyway, and he needed to clear his head. The angel didn't even seem like he would be too upset about it, given the frequency with which they saw each other, and he wouldn't want to stick around if Dean's heart wasn't in it. He was right; he usually listened to Cas's ridiculous stories about Gabriel with rapt attention.

` "Uh," Dean cleared his throat, "Actually, yeah, I would like to get some rest. I'm sorry."

Cas nodded in understanding and straightened, sitting on his butt and slipping his feet into the shoes lying next to the couch. Their hands were almost touching, and the body heat radiating from him made Dean's breath hitch involuntarily. Pulling his angel to him chest to chest and never letting go seemed like a good plan right about now. It wasn't even about lust, or anything like that; it was about being close and sharing warmth and feeling fulfilled and being content with just sitting like that for the rest of eternity if Cas was okay with it, because it wasn't a silly crush and it wasn't hormones, and damn it, he'd felt like this since he was six fucking years old. He'd been in love with this perfect angel of a human for almost his entire sentient life.

"Don't concern yourself with it," Cas replied easily, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "I'll just call Anna to come pick me up."

"See ya later, nerd," Dean called as he left, grinning when Cas gave him the finger. Anna had come only a few minutes after receiving the call; apparently she had nothing better to do than pick her 18 year old brother up from his friend's house.

Sam threw him a withering look, shaking his head.

"'I'm not in love with Cas,'" he whined, in a poor impersonation of Dean, "'He's just my friend.'"

"Shut up, bitch."

/

"Why are you coming home so early?" Anna asked, pulling away from Dean's house. Cas sighed, curling himself up and bracing his feet on the dashboard. There was a small, paranoid part of him that made him think that maybe Dean wasn't actually tired. Maybe he was just tired of him. He'd noticed how weird his friend was acting around him lately, how faraway he seemed sometimes. Was Dean finally getting tired of their long-lasting friendship? It made his chest hurt to think about, especially considering that Cas relied on the closeness they shared to compensate for wanting something different.

"Dean wasn't feeling well," he droned, shutting his eyes. Yeah, he definitely needed to not dwell on it. If Dean felt it was time for them to fall apart, there was no point in beating himself up about it. Pathetic.

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Anna asked softly, honing in on his thinly veiled distress, "There's honestly no point in hiding it from him anymore."

Yeah, Anna knew. She'd known since an eight year old Castiel expressed to her his intention to ask Dean to a school dance. Cas's devotion to him over time hadn't lessened any, just became different and more real and substantial, not that she'd expected any different. The two of them were 18 now, far beyond the point of it being a fleeting attraction.

"What do you mean by that?" Cas asked, glancing at her, "I can't tell him."

She felt a small rush of anger at her little brother, the one whose hair she'd stroked when he was in middle school and cried because other kids made fun of his sexuality. She was firmly convinced the only reason Cas was anything but asexual was because of Dean. He'd never expressed even a momentary interest in anyone else. He was simply indifferent. Gabriel said that he didn't even have any porn on his laptop, though why her brother knew that, she didn't want to think about.

"Castiel," she stated gruffly, "I know you better than anyone. I know that you're never going to love anyone else. I know that you and this boy are just…I don't know. _Entwined, _I guess, for the rest of your lives. And you are going to be miserable if you don't tell him."

Cas crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a sting begin in his eyes.

"Can you honestly see the two of you in ten years?" she demanded, "Just ambling along, you never admitting to anything and him hiding, too. Putting on a façade of normalcy, of friendship? There would be absolutely no point. You can't pretend to be best friends with someone when you're hiding something of that magnitude, because best friends don't hide things like that. You're living a lie right now, and you will be for the rest of your life."

Cas froze in his seat, astounded. Sure, his siblings had been nothing but supportive in the past, but he never realized how passionate they were about it. When someone as intelligent and logical as Anna put it in perspective like that…he felt like the biggest idiot. He wondered how she and Gabe could have possibly put up with any of his foolishness for as long as they did without slapping him across the face, or telling Dean themselves.

"Y-You're right," he breathed, staring at her, "You're completely right."

"Always am," she replied cheerfully, "And if you ask me, Dean's doing just fine. He probably didn't get rid of you for the reason you think, either."

/

"Dean, get the door!" Sam shouted later that night from his bedroom, "Someone's knocking on it!"

Dean stomped to the parlor, having had to walk all the way from the back of the house. "You were closer to it than I was!" he yelled back, "You're so lazy!"

"AM NOT!"

He grumbled under his breath, not bothering to look through the peephole before unlocking the front door and pulling it open.

It was Cas, standing on his front porch with the most intense, determined look on his face. In all his life, Dean was pretty sure he'd only ever seen that face twice. And both of those times happened before they reached sixth grade. Needless to say, he was a little confused. Still glad to see him though, if his loud heartbeat was any indication.

"What's up?" Dean asked, stepping back as his angel clomped over the threshold to stand before him. Even his footsteps sounded like they were on a mission. He felt a little trickle of anxiety; was Cas mad at him? What was he doing here?

At this point, he also noticed that Cas was very clearly hiding something behind his back. He wasn't even being inconspicuous about it, or even trying to be inconspicuous about it, which was just so much like Cas. He only seemed to be hiding the nature of what it was, and Dean was still so confused and weirded out that he wasn't going to press that particular matter now. He was used to him being weirdly intense and hard to read about certain things. Hopefully, he could just ride this out easily. No bigggie.

"Dean," Cas started, his voice wavering just a tad, "I, uh, have something to tell you. It's important."

What the hell? Dean was just slightly more on edge now than he was before. What could Cas possibly have to tell him? That he knew he was lying when Dean sort-of-kind-of asked him to leave earlier? That he was dropping out of school? That he was a clown? _What?_ Or was it just a joke?

"What is it?" he asked, chuckling uncertainly, "Are you dying or something?"

"That isn't funny," Cas huffed disapprovingly, "I'm not terminally ill."

That was a relief. Not that it was a legitimate concern of his…or maybe it was. You never know when life's gonna bite you in the ass. He looked at his very healthy friend expectantly, raising his eyebrows.

"Spit it out, nerd."

/

"I-I love you," Cas managed, his previously steady voice failing him and mutating into a thick, warbly mess, "I love you so much I can't breathe and I'm never going to stop. Okay, see you at school."

He hastily turned to go, almost knocking over a floor lamp in the process, before Dean grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him back. Cas worried his bottom lip with his teeth, scared and nervous and mortified. He didn't have a script at this point, had no idea what to do. He could have left this feeling even artificially confident, and now he was going to be reduced to a sick, self-conscious mess.

"Ha-Hang on," Dean pleaded, his voice strangled, "Did you mean that? Did you fucking mean that?"

And now Cas wanted to deny it. Wanted to deny it until his lungs burst and his soul cracked in half. But he couldn't, and Dean wouldn't believe it anyway. Then where would they be?

"Yeeess," his throat snagged, his head rushing, "Of course I meant it. Don't be an assbutt."

Dean curled his fingers around his arm, and Cas finally looked up to see his mouth trembling, and a tear roll down his face. His features scrunched up when their eyes met, and he held back a sob.

"I love you, too, angel," he rasped, his voice cracking. Cas felt himself slam against the other's chest, an instantaneous warmth spreading through his body and seeping into his blood, "Like you wouldn't believe."

Still in a haze of bliss and disbelief, Cas's knees gave out when Dean's lips fitted themselves onto his. Luckily for him, Dean's strong arms held him up, and he had the chance to return the kiss fervently, releasing a litany of embarrassing moans and whimpers.

"That's so cute," Dean sighed, pulling away and peppering the rest of his face with kisses, "Fuck, I love you so much. Why the hell did you wait this long?"

Cas answered with an incoherent noise as Dean closed his mouth around his adam's apple, raking his nails across his back. This was his first…everything. He'd never even had a remote interest in being with anyone else, ever. He wasn't sure he could compare to Dean's own prowess.

Dean pulled away after several minutes of making him light-headed and hot and _fuck._"What's inside your coat?" he demanded, because at some point during that Cas had slipped the mystery item inside his jacket. Cas, still delirious, fumbled for it, pulling it out with shaky fingers.

It was the Valentine's card from all those years ago. A little worn around the edges, the misspelled words a little faded, but easily recognizable, and still so perfectly sloppy and amazing.

"Even then, Cas," he choked, brushing a finger over his cheekbone, "I can't believe you didn't throw it out."

"I couldn't," Cas released a shaky laugh, pressing his face into Dean's chest because he could do that now, he was allowed, "It was penance for lying about not having a crush."

/

A/N: PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Personally, I'm a little proud of it, but feel free to leave reasons why it sucks in a review. (I hope you like it, though) If enough people are interested, I'll make a second chapter with the little bit of smut (?) I have written for it, or make a separate oneshot. Let me know!


End file.
